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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27375649">The Night After</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/pseuds/Nununununu'>Nununununu</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Comfortween 2020 [30]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Mandalorian (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Caretaking, Comfortween 2020, Don't copy to another site, First Time, Hand Jobs, Healing, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sharing Clothes, Stomach Ache, Table Sex, Touch-Starved, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000, day 30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 12:07:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,917</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27375649</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/pseuds/Nununununu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's only right to offer the Mandalorian and his kid the use of Cobb's place in order to shower and sleep.</p>
<p>Things progress from there.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) &amp; Din Djarin &amp; Cobb Vanth, Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Comfortween 2020 [30]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948441</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>577</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Comfortween 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Night After</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>30. Candy Overload<br/>For the prompt <i>comforting someone through some sort of stomach upset or abdominal pain.</i></p>
<p>Includes a whole lot of bonus smut (the stomachache is over around halfway through and the child's asleep when the smut happens). Canon divergent in that the characters don't part ways at the end of the episode.</p>
<p>(Date will be altered to reflect the series order in a bit. Update 04.11- edited in places).</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>“Nah, I’m fine,” Cobb waves the Mandalorian off as they near the cantina, “You go clean your armour.”</p>
<p>It’s neither said nor intended as an insult; the man’s covered in gunk from the dragon. The little one in his arms is contentedly smearing sticky handprints over the beskar.</p>
<p>Halfway up the stairs to his small rooms, Cobb pauses as something occurs to him, even as his stomach seeks to cramp even further. It’s not like he’s going to throw up – at least he’s pretty sure not. It’s just that whatever was in that water the Tusken Raiders gave him feels like it’s taken on a life of his own and is hacking at his abdomen with knives.</p>
<p>Ah, he’s had worse. Probably. Sometime. He drank it in the spirit of comradeship with their new allies and he’ll be damned if he ends up regretting it. Even if his insides are doing their utmost to convince him to.</p>
<p>“You’re in pain,” That calm voice of the Mandalorian’s states.</p>
<p>“I’m <em>fine</em>,” Huffing a little, Cobb nonetheless grins as he looks back to see the man still looking up at him – or the helmet’s looking up at him, anyway – and the kid busy dolloping handfuls of gunk on top of his own tiny head, “Look, you got somewhere to shower?” He gestures at the little one, “You know, or give the kid a bath?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Is the answer, but there’s something about it that suggests a longer one.</p>
<p>“You mean on your ship,” It doesn’t take too much trouble for Cobb to work it out. And said ship is – in whatever distant town the Mandalorian had mentioned leaving it in. Which means he intends to go back there on speeder, in addition to the time it had taken them to get back to Mos Pelgo.</p>
<p>“No seriously, stay here; both of you are going to itch like anything if you let that stuff dry on you anymore,” That’s not to mention the smell.</p>
<p>Cobb refuses to wince at the fuss his stomach puts up as he trips back down the stairs to further make his case, his legs protesting a little as well. Not as young as he used to be and not used to <em>quite</em> as much action as today had held, although he’s seen his share.</p>
<p>“<em>Here</em>, if you want,” He gestures up at his own rooms; he can kip on the couch once they’ve all cleaned up, “Or here, in town. Wherever. Folks will be happy to share.”</p>
<p>“Hmm,” Is all he gets in response for a few long seconds, until the Mandalorian seems to belatedly register that the kid’s pretty much now covered from head to toe.</p>
<p>The man’s sigh is audible through the helmet and Cobb can’t quite hide the way his mouth quirks up to one side in amusement as a result.</p>
<p>“Careful,” There’s a hint of humour in the Mandalorian’s voice, “Or you can bathe him.”</p>
<p>And that’s apparently his answer as to where the duo is going to be staying.</p>
<p>“I’m not exactly a kid person,” Cobb holds up his hands. Then he thinks again and holds them out, “Then again, I’m also <em>not</em> not a kid person, either. Reckon I can keep him entertained with a bowl of water, at least, if you want to get on and make use of that shower.”</p>
<p>He gets a longer look this time, and the Mandalorian <em>is</em> looking, Cobb’s definite. Assessing him.</p>
<p>“I can bathe him,” Is the decision, after a moment that feels much longer than it really is. Just as Cobb’s left to wonder in what way he’s been found lacking, the other man adds, “You can watch over him after.”</p>
<p>Gazing up at him, the kid blows a considering raspberry. Cobb feels his grin crook just a little further in return.</p>
<p>“He’s a good kid, isn’t he,” He’s been able to tell this right from the start, “Sure can do.”</p>
<p>He gets a faint huff of what could be a chuckle from the Mandalorian, even as Cobb indicates for the man to precede him up the stairs.</p>
<p>“You might regret saying that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>--</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cobb doesn’t regret it.</p>
<p>The kid’s a genuine charmer, gurgling and splashing in a bowl of warm water in the centre of Cobb’s tiny set of rooms, the largest free space available given the refresher’s about the size of a box, splashing his guardian thoroughly from helmet to boot. Cobb’s not got an abundance of water, no one does here on this planet, but he’s not about to resent it or call it a waste when the little one’s so thoroughly covered himself in gunk and so obviously enjoying himself to boot.</p>
<p>The kid makes a truly awful amount of mess the Mandalorian stalwartly ignores during the bath, and then prosaically cleans up after. Cobb’s not much of a cook, his tiny rooms are not particularly well stocked, but he manages to rustle up something for them both to eat and leaves the bowls along with a couple of drinks on the table while he ducks into the refresher to spruce himself up a little.</p>
<p>He’s dust and sand-stained more than anything else and, although his stomach’s still grumbling, it’s easier to ignore than earlier. He’s never had much of a problem with anything he’s eaten previously – and he’s eaten some truly questionable stuff – and the fact the Tuskens had chosen to make the offer a second time after he rejected the first one means a lot. He’s not about to bellyache about <em>having</em> a bellyache as a result.</p>
<p>After a quick scrub in the sonic, he stays in the refresher a little longer than he needs to, just to give the Mandalorian time to eat if the man chooses to do so alongside the kid, rubbing a hand over his jaw in the vague thought of neatening his beard before setting the thought back aside for the morning.</p>
<p>The other man’s replacing his cleaned dishes in the cramped little galley when Cobb emerges after a brief sojourn to his only other room, the Mandalorian’s back half-turned and helmet firmly on. The kid is sat on top of the table, head buried in the depths of his bowl as he chases after the last of his food, making small noises of appreciation as he eats.</p>
<p>“I can clean that up,” Cobb gestures to the bowl when the Mandalorian turns as if in question, “You go get <em>you</em> cleaned up. Back room’s got more space than the refresher if you need it.”</p>
<p>The back room’s also technically his bedroom, but he kips on the couch in the main area just as often as not. With a fresh set of sheets and some clean clothes set out in case the Mandalorian wants them, given his lack of visible supplies, Cobb’s also pushed some of the random stuff that’s accumulated in there to one side to make room for the kid’s pod.</p>
<p>Best he can do and he trusts it’ll at least beat that long old trek back to the ship.</p>
<p>“The child will probably need to sleep soon,” The Mandalorian pauses before heading there, placing his hand briefly on the kid’s soft little head. Dark eyes peek out from under the bowl to blink up at his caretaker and he nods once at the little one as if in confirmation of something unspoken, before looking back up at Cobb, “Thank you.”</p>
<p>Having collected his own dinner from where it’s been waiting, Cobb’s already sat himself by the kid at the table, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. He raises a shoulder in a half-shrug; it’s not as if he’s done much.</p>
<p>“Sure thing.”</p>
<p>He doesn’t consciously intend to watch the Mandalorian head out of the room, but he doesn’t <em>not</em> intend to either. The kid’s watching Cobb’s food extremely closely, he discovers right after.</p>
<p>There’s also a fair amount <em>less</em> of it in the bowl than before.</p>
<p>“Mm?” As if completely innocent, the kid tilts his head and coos.</p>
<p>Well, it’s not as if Cobb has much of an appetite anyway.</p>
<p>“Nicely done,” His grin making a reappearance, he hands the bowl over, “Go on.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>--</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The kid’s a warm bundle fast asleep and drooling on Cobb’s shoulder by the time the Mandalorian finishes cleaning his armour in the back room and then at long last takes that shower.</p>
<p>“Hey, I swear this wasn’t <em>my</em> plan,” Chuckling a little both at the expression he imagines might well be on the other man’s face beneath the freshly cleaned helmet and at the picture he himself must be making sprawled out on the couch with a little one determinedly attached, tiny face mashed into his neck, Cobb gestures to indicate his status as a helpless prisoner to the kid as the Mandalorian comes to a stop next to them.</p>
<p>“Hm.”</p>
<p>There’s a whole lot of emotion buried beneath that quiet, seemingly ambivalent noise, Cobb just bets.</p>
<p>“You ever see him sleep like this with someone else?” He finds himself asking as a result, tone a little gentler than he consciously intends. A presumption, yes, but there’s something about the way the Mandalorian’s just standing there looking at them that strikes a chord in Cobb he doesn’t expect.</p>
<p>“No,” Is the answer he gets after a long moment, unsurprising.</p>
<p>The Mandalorian’s got the helmet on, of course. But he hasn’t put his armour back on, and he’s wearing that spare set of clothes, only looking a tiny bit awkward about it.</p>
<p><em>Cobb’s</em> clothes.</p>
<p>Cobb really shouldn’t look at him, or at the way his old top is stretched out over the other man’s broader shoulders, and feel his mouth go dry.</p>
<p>He also really shouldn’t notice the way their difference in height and body shape means that the spare pants he’s lent the other man are a bit too long, while that top is riding up just a little at the hem, showing off a strip of skin.</p>
<p>The Mandalorian’s distraction suggests he’s unaware of it, but he surely must be.</p>
<p>Cobb’s so absorbed in this it actually takes him a moment to realise the man’s also not wearing any gloves and there’s a scar across the back of one hand, curving around to the base of his thumb, and –</p>
<p>Cobb should just look away right about now, rather than feel his fingers twitch with the impulse to reach out and touch it. He also definitely shouldn’t be tempted to run his fingertips over that strip of skin at the man’s waist, but he is, he <em>is</em>.</p>
<p>The Mandalorian’s still looking at him. Cobb doesn’t even know the man’s <em>name</em>.</p>
<p>Doesn’t know the kid’s name either, has got the suspicion the little one might not even have one, but that might be due to the kid’s species – plenty of cultures out there have different naming conventions or don’t use them in the same way.</p>
<p>Said kid mumbles in his sleep, burrowing further into the crook of Cobb’s neck. The feel of him breathing is inexplicably soothing; until the Mandalorian’s reappearance, Cobb had been unintentionally lulled into drifting too.</p>
<p>“You – want him back?” He offers, feeling just a little like he’s feeling his way. Because the Mandalorian is still just standing there looking, and while Cobb’s lowered the lighting enough that it’s hard to make out a lot of detail, the sight of him is still doing things to his insides that’s nothing to do with that water he drank.</p>
<p>His stomach feels better since first lying down with the kid, in fact. He’d scooped up the little one when the kid had got antsy, no doubt overtired, and had been telling the little thing stories without really thinking about it, flopping down onto the couch with care not to dislodge the child from his arms.</p>
<p>His abdomen had protested the move, but then there’d been a sort of soft spreading warmth and Cobb had glanced down at his belly, half fearing the little one had had an accident or something, but his clothes had been dry and he’d started poking Cobb’s cheek in the demand for more stories.</p>
<p>His attention so diverted, it had taken Cobb a while to realise his stomach had finally decided to settle down. In fairness, it might not even have been all the water; could have just been the excitement. Not everyday folks get to make the first steps towards a friendship with Tusken Raiders or fight a krayt dragon up close and personal after all.</p>
<p>“Will you put him in his crib?” The Mandalorian’s voice is soft enough it takes Cobb a second to realise what he’s been asked to do. A decision there the other man isn’t saying, or perhaps the beginning of one. “If I take him, he’ll either wake up or won’t let go.”</p>
<p>“No problem,” Rolling himself up off the couch without moving the kid from his shoulder, Cobb treks into the back room, aware of the Mandalorian following, “No promises that me transferring him wont wake him though.”</p>
<p>“He’ll sleep,” The other man sounds sure of this – and sure enough, when Cobb eases the kid down into his pod and tucks his blanket lightly over him, the kid only stirs enough to mewl faintly before curling a hand around the corner of his bedding and settling back down.</p>
<p>“And he’s out,” There’s a smile curving Cobb’s lips almost despite himself and he glances back at the other man, trying to keep his gaze neutral, trying not to look like he’s got any sort of half-formed hope or other such notion going on. “Spotchka? We never did have that drink.”</p>
<p>The Mandalorian looks at him for so long Cobb knows he’s definitely being assessed all over again, and then the other man steps back out of the room without word, waiting right next to the door for Cobb to leave likewise, before pulling it quietly closed.</p>
<p>“Kid’ll be all right?” Cobb’s kept an eye on the local kids a fair few times, but not enough to be familiar with how much noise they make if they wake up during the night. Loud, he’s guessing, and from the Mandalorian’s nod he gets the decided impression he’s correct.</p>
<p>They’re very close to one another for a heartbeat, the Mandalorian’s ungloved hand still on the door, while Cobb’s leaning against the wall. Then the Mandalorian makes a low, wordless sound – not a sigh – and heads back into the main room. Goes to the table and turns so he’s leaning back against it a little, facing Cobb, the dim lights making the helmet glow, licking over the shape of his arms and chest beneath the too tight shirt.</p>
<p>“I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess you’re going to turn me down again when it comes to that drink,” Cobb predicts, as if his heart hasn’t ramped up its beat in response to that pose.</p>
<p>“The drink until later, yes,” Quietly spoken as it is, there’s the same invitation there in the other man’s voice as in his body language, “You, no.”</p>
<p>“You’re – not turning me down,” Wetting his lips almost without realising, Cobb’s drawn in a few steps towards him, asking without asking just in case.</p>
<p>The signals <em>seem</em> clear, but –</p>
<p>“Does this answer your question?” Reaching out as Cobb takes a final step closer, the Mandalorian runs his hand down the centre of Cobb’s chest, hooks his fingers around Cobb’s belt buckle, and reels him in.</p>
<p>“I’d sure say it does,” Cobb’s laughing a little as he stumbles in between the other man’s legs, even as desire leaps up inside him to fill his throat. He lets his hand find that strip of skin, curving around the man’s hip as his thumb strokes, feeling heat and softness, and the way the other man jerks just a little before he represses the reaction.</p>
<p>Sensitive. It makes sense, the Mandalorian’s skin usually being hidden under armour and all that clothing.</p>
<p>It also makes Cobb’s mouth dry out all over again. They’re close, very close, but not touching more than his hand on the other man’s hip and the Mandalorian’s hand on his belt, tension in what space is left between them – tension and intent. Anticipation.</p>
<p>Cobb finds the man’s hand with his free one, touches that scar, wants to do something foolish like draw it up to his mouth and kiss it.</p>
<p>“How’d you want to go about this?” He lets his fingers trace that scar even as he tucks the thumb of his other hand under the hem of the other man’s borrowed pants just a little, feeling the Mandalorian’s stomach twitch.</p>
<p>“Quietly,” Is the response, isn’t that informative, but fair enough. And Cobb, fond as he is of talking, can do that.</p>
<p>“All right,” He lets his hand wander up from the man’s, up over his wrist, his forearm, feeling the warmth of skin beneath the fabric, enjoying the strength of muscles under his palm, feeling the Mandalorian tense a little and then relax, as if the first is instinctual and the second a deliberate choice. Cobb continues his exploration, glancing at the blank face of the helmet, unable to keep from imagining the man’s expression beneath, hearing the Mandalorian’s breath roughen very slightly when Cobb traces his clavicle and then down onto his chest.</p>
<p>Circling a nipple through the fabric of that too tight top gets a bigger reaction, the Mandalorian’s hips shifting slightly against the table, against Cobb’s other palm. The thumb of his other hand is still tucked under the hem of those borrowed pants. He strokes it in a slow sweep against the line of that hip and down a little further, down far enough he hears the Mandalorian catch his breath, and then all of a sudden the Mandalorian’s nudging at him a little, pushing him back with that hand on his belt.</p>
<p>“Too much?” Cobb doesn’t entirely intend to ask this out loud, given he’s pretty sure the answer’s <em>yes</em> and that the Mandalorian won’t admit to it; that this almost tenderness has taken the other man off guard.</p>
<p>“Get that open,” The Mandalorian just tugs at Cobb’s belt in place of an answer, before turning to brace his hands against the table, so Cobb’s facing his back, his voice going gruff, “Get on with it.”</p>
<p>“Not much for foreplay, huh,” Making his own voice light to show there are no hard feelings, Cobb has to lick his lips all over again at the implication, just as he reaches out to drag his hand down the length of the other man’s back, once again feeling him suppress a start, “Like this?”</p>
<p>He can’t say he was expecting it, but he’s sure got no complaints.</p>
<p>“Like this,” There’s an edge of huskiness now, rather than gruffness. <em>Want</em>. Impatience, too. “Don’t take all night.”</p>
<p>“You know, I <em>had</em> reckoned we were barely getting started,” His grin crooking his mouth, Cobb nonetheless obeys. Lets the Mandalorian hear it as he unbuckles his belt; keeps his other hand on the small of the man’s back, thumb sliding over the curve of spine where it dips down towards the man’s ass. “You going to shoot me if I step away for a second to get lube?”</p>
<p>“No,” Rather than looking back at him, the Mandalorian simply leans forwards to brace his forearms on the table. The sight of him like that is –</p>
<p>“<em>Fuck</em>,” Cobb keeps this under his breath. Has to hobble a bit to achieve any sort of speed while walking with a hard on, but manages to make it back in under a minute, depositing the small tube on the table next to the man. “Going to let me undo those?” He gets his own pants undone.</p>
<p>“Hm,” It’s not a negation, very nearly a ‘mm’ instead, and so Cobb puts his hand back on the Mandalorian’s hip, leans in closer to run his hand forwards a bit, following the waistband to the fastening of the borrowed pants.</p>
<p>It’s unavoidably noticeable how the Mandalorian’s cock is tenting the material, curving up towards his belly, and Cobb wants to run his palm over it, wants to tease the man through the fabric, wind him up a bit, but he just gets a “get on with it,” that’s a touch breathier than its owner no doubt intends.</p>
<p>“Pushy,” Grinning, Cobb hooks those pants down, careful not to catch on the man’s cock, tugging them down around the Mandalorian’s thighs, before letting go to scoop up the lube and unscrew its cap, “Are you always like this in bed?”</p>
<p>“We’re not in – not in bed,” The Mandalorian’s voice catches gratifyingly when Cobb strokes his other hand over the smooth curve of an ass cheek, thumb grazing the crack. He wants to ruck up that shirt and get it off over the man’s head, wants to turn him back around and play with that nipple properly, pinch it until it plumps up and suck at the other one, wants to investigate that sensitive stomach and the jut of those hips, wants to get that hard cock in his mouth.</p>
<p>He <em>wants</em>, with a strength and intensity that surprises him, but he’s probably not going to get even half of all that, and so Cobb just goes with what he’s being so clearly offered, with what the other man’s comfortable with, and wraps his slick fingers lightly around the base of that cock, grinning sharply when it makes the Mandalorian grunt.</p>
<p>“Go on then,” Cobb’s just as capable of giving orders. He squeezes very slightly, nudges his hips forward into the other man – entirely incidentally rubbing his own still clothed cock against the crease of that bared ass – and hides his grin against the man’s shoulder when the Mandalorian hisses and pushes forwards into his grip.</p>
<p>“<em>Uh</em> –”</p>
<p>It’s a tiny noise, an almost inaudible catch of breath, but Cobb still thrills to hear it, just as he thrills at the way the Mandalorian’s whole body shivers as he rocks back and then forwards again to slide his cock against the loose fist of Cobb’s hand, the underside of the glans catching Cobb’s middle two fingers a little before it pops through the gap between index finger and thumb. Cobb squeezes gently as the other man goes to pull back, increasing the pressure, and feels his own cock leak precome as the one in his hand jolts.</p>
<p>“Shit, I’ve got to – just a sec,” It’s awkward fumbling with his own clothes when he’s half leaning over the other man like this, crowded in so close, grateful his belt’s already open as he shoves his own pants down.</p>
<p>“Do you always take this long?” Is the complaint he gets for his trouble, and to which he can only reply, “Are you always in such a rush?” even as he holds onto his bared cock with his free hand so he can nestle it in between those curved cheeks and rock down in between those tensing thighs.</p>
<p>“<em>Uh</em> –” The Mandalorian makes the same noise again, this time clearer and more like a groan, and adjusts his stance without prompting to tighten his legs, giving Cobb more to thrust in against, the motion of it rocking the other man more firmly into the tug of his other hand. He starts to jerk the Mandalorian off, far slower than is probably wanted, and catches his breath himself as the head of his own cock rubs up against the other man’s balls.</p>
<p>“Fuck,” Conscious of the kid sleeping in the other room and his partner’s request, Cobb manages to keep this quiet even as he tightens the ring of his fingers around the Mandalorian’s shaft, dragging his hand upwards this time, circling his thumb over the slit at the head of the man’s cock until further precome wells up and the man gasps.</p>
<p>“<em>Kriff</em>,” The bowing over further of the Mandalorian’s spine is quite something to watch, the man near lying his helmeted head down on his arms on the table, distinctly shivering when Cobb drags his hand down the length of his back again from nape to ass.  He’s complaining again even as he grinds back against Cobb’s hips, thighs clenching at Cobb’s cock, “Come on and <em>fuck me</em>.”</p>
<p>“You <em>sure</em> you want me to?” Cobb has to enquire, just to screw with him, but grabs onto his self-control enough to make himself stop and relocate the lube, offering it to the Mandalorian until the man takes the hint and, groaning, raises his head and gets a hand up off the table long enough to squeeze out a messy dollop onto the fingers of Cobb’s non-dominant hand.</p>
<p>“And now the other,” Cobb lets go of the man’s cock with his other hand, replaces it with the freshly lubed one, relishes the way the Mandalorian shudders, hips and shaft both jumping hard. He’s not going to be able to jerk him off anywhere near as well with his non-dominant hand, but nor does he have the dexterity to do with it what his other hand is about to be doing, and so he just grips down on the base of the Mandalorian’s shaft, grinning a little at the sound of the man breathing between gritted teeth as he fumbles to squeeze more lube onto the fingers Cobb’s newly freed up.</p>
<p><em>These</em> ones are good for doing the job.</p>
<p>“Yeah?” Cobb doesn’t have to guide the Mandalorian’s legs wider again, as the man’s already doing as much, and the noise he makes when Cobb’s fingers find and circle his hole does all sorts of things to Cobb’s cock.</p>
<p>“I’ve got a few – complaints,” The Mandalorian gets out, when Cobb doesn’t immediately go to put any of those fingers in, but there’s no annoyance to his tone, the words instead near trembling around a whimper when Cobb teases that tight ring of muscle again, the other man’s head bowing back down.</p>
<p>The arch of his back really is quite something; the glimpse of hair under the helmet like a secret just for Cobb to see. The bare expanse of the Mandalorian’s neck between metal and the collar of the borrowed top seems so vulnerable, but the breadth and arch of his back is all tension in the best kind of ways when Cobb takes pity on him and slides a finger in.</p>
<p>“That put one of those complaints to rest?” He has to enquire, not one about to genuinely leave a partner wanting, after all.</p>
<p>“<em>Maybe</em>,” The Mandalorian says this between his teeth again, or perhaps he’s biting down on his lip, but there’s no sound of genuine upset or displeasure there either, only heat and need and impatience as he seeks to push back.</p>
<p>“Not yet,” Cobb slows him with a squeeze of the man’s cock, turns it into a stroke, gliding his slick hand against that shaft until the Mandalorian’s ass relaxes around his finger, and then he can get to work.</p>
<p>“<em>Now</em>,” The Mandalorian nonetheless demands, when Cobb’s done about a <em>third</em> of what he’s intending – or rather, a third of what he would very much <em>like</em> to do, which is to get enough fingers in the man to have him whimpering – and thumps the table as quietly as it’s possible to do, “Now.”</p>
<p>“So pushy,” Cobb rubs up against the man’s prostate instead, keeping up with it until the whine he hears building in the Mandalorian’s chest and the tremble of his hips becomes closer to a growl and a thrust, and only then draws back, “I’m honestly starting to feel quite put upon.”</p>
<p>It probably doesn’t help his case that he completely fails to keep his grin out of his voice.</p>
<p>“I’ll show you <em>put upon</em>,” The Mandalorian grumbles, which really doesn’t work as a threat, especially as the words shatter into a moan when Cobb slicks his hand over the length of his own cock, gathering the precome off the head to add to the remaining lube on his palm, coating his shaft as best as he can, and then positions himself against the place he’s been apparently teasing so badly.</p>
<p>Damn, but he’d like to have the chance to <em>actually</em> tease this man, to draw it out properly, to get the Mandalorian spread out on his bed and to take their time over it, to lie between the man’s legs rather than stand behind him and then to curve the man’s ankles up around his waist and –</p>
<p>“<em>Ah</em> –” The noise bursts out of Cobb’s own chest this time as, growling, the Mandalorian rocks back against the head of his cock, apparently fed up with waiting and deciding to take matters into his own hands. Or ass, as it were.</p>
<p>Biology being what it is, the Mandalorian doesn’t quite manage, Cobb’s cock deciding to play hard to get before Cobb grabs hold of it and gets it back into position. Pushing forwards this time when the Mandalorian hisses a curse and pushes back, and that’s it, that’s the other man’s body opening up to accept him, and – and –</p>
<p>“Oh fuck,” Damn, but it feels <em>good</em>, “Oh <em>fuck</em>.”</p>
<p>“<em>Quiet</em>,” The Mandalorian bangs his fist against the table again – indeed quietly – and Cobb stifles a groan, nods instead, because he’d just about die if the kid woke and they had to stop now.</p>
<p>“Yeah –” He pulls back, rocks into the other man again, swallows a moan at the feel of it when his partner flexes his hips, “<em>Yeah</em>.”</p>
<p>“<em>Yeah</em>,” <em>This</em> is something it seems they can agree on.</p>
<p>In the spirit of this – and because of the feeling of the other man’s ass more or less trying to suck his cock in and never let it out – Cobb ends up giving into the pace the Mandalorian sets, not so much fucking him as being fucked in a sort of backwards way, gripping the man’s hip in one hand and cock in the other, and going along for the ride for a few minutes as the Mandalorian gropes one of his own hands back to grab at Cobb’s arm as if in the attempt to pull him in closer, deeper.</p>
<p>“Yeah?” Getting his act together, Cobb stirs his hand from the man’s hip to encourage him up from the table, lifting up on his other arm until they’re no longer so cramped and Cobb can drive into him at an angle that makes the Mandalorian’s knees near give out before he firms his stance.</p>
<p>A minute or so of this and then the Mandalorian then takes it upon himself to stand up further, and while Cobb’s got a couple of inches on the other man, it’s not quite enough, so they’re limited to shorter thrusts for a while as a result, a bit of a breather of sorts.</p>
<p>It <em>is</em> pleasing to encourage the Mandalorian to lean his helmeted head back against Cobb’s shoulder, to stroke his hand down the man’s throat, feeling his Adam’s apple bob as Cobb lets go of the Mandalorian’s cock to run his hand over his partner’s belly and then back to his ass, dipping his thumb down between the man’s crack until he grazes the place where their bodies join and the Mandalorian shakes and groans.</p>
<p>“Come on, come on,” He’s also back to being demanding again, and so Cobb bends him back over the table, hand on the man’s nape close to that hint of dark hair, thumb of his other hand still rubbing at the curve of the man’s rim over and over as he fucks into him more deeply again, driving into him properly now, “<em>F-fuck</em>.”</p>
<p>“I – I thought we <em>were</em>,” Too breathless himself by now to keep hold of his grin, Cobb waits until he has the Mandalorian cursing and fumbling to reach a hand down towards his cock before batting it away and catching hold of it himself, feeling it leap and pulse against his fingers after only a few pumps, the man’s body tightening almost painfully hard around his own cock as the Mandalorian shoves his free hand up under his helmet to cover his mouth and muffle himself as he cries out.</p>
<p>“<em>Fuck, fuck</em>,” Cobb doesn’t have enough control left to ease up, fucking the man through his orgasm, working at the softening cock in his hand until the Mandalorian hisses and bats at him in return, letting go of it to take hold of his hip instead, remembering that strip of skin.</p>
<p>Pushing himself up to sling his hand up over his shoulder, the Mandalorian catches hold of the back of Cobb’s neck, pulling him in until they’re near plastered against each other, ass clenching down even tighter on Cobb’s cock, and it’s enough to wrench Cobb’s own orgasm out of him hard enough it near makes him stagger and lose his footing once it’s done and his cock slips out.</p>
<p>He doesn’t want it to. He wants to stay like that, inside this man as he softens, lying together until they’re both hard again and ready for another round, but the table isn’t the place for it and there’s a little tension creeping into the Mandalorian’s stance after a while.</p>
<p>“Okay?” Running his gaze over what he can see of the man’s body as he draws back in the knowledge that this well could be the only time he gets to witness it, Cobb grabs for the first thing suitable to come to hand, which turns out to be a dishcloth, and gives himself a cursory wipe before passing it over.</p>
<p>“Kriff yeah,” Sighing, the Mandalorian tucks himself back in to Cobb’s regret, but proves himself surprisingly amenable to being encouraged onto the couch, “I guess I need to borrow your refresher again now.”</p>
<p>“You’re welcome to it,” Remaining upright long enough to fetch them both a drink, Cobb collapses down beside him, turns his back and aims his face at the wall while he drinks, and waits until the other man’s subtle movements cease and there’s a nudge to indicate he can turn back round.</p>
<p>The Mandalorian is looking at him. Helmet back on again – if it even came off more than a couple of inches – but Cobb’s nonetheless certain his face is being searched.</p>
<p>Damn, but he’d like to be able to make eye contact. Would like to lean forwards and see what the other man would be like to kiss.</p>
<p>Still, what is, is, and he’s not going to gripe about not getting what he wants, when he’s already been given a whole lot more than he ever expected.</p>
<p>“That was an offer,” The Mandalorian says a little pointedly, like Cobb’s missing something, “But don’t get any ideas about the helmet coming off.”</p>
<p>“You shower in it?” Cobb near chokes on his mouthful of water as the first half of that sentence catches up with him and, oh – <em>oh</em>, “Yeah? You’re up for a second round?”</p>
<p>He’s abruptly grinning all over again.</p>
<p>“Mm,” There’s a fair amount of returning heat to the sound, and Cobb would swear he can sense that same fervour in the other man’s gaze as the Mandalorian runs his fingers down Cobb’s chest towards his still unbuckled pants, “If you can keep up this time –”</p>
<p>“I can’t help but reckon that instead I should be the one asking if you’re going to do any more of the work,” Cobb snorts, teasing, although he relents right after so the other man can finish his sentence.</p>
<p>“Then <em>yes</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
<em>Fin.</em>
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